Daughter of Troy
by Adania
Summary: Sequel to AN INVINCIBLE HAVEN. HA during the events of the movie Troy. The story behind one of the most loving couples in all history.
1. Arrival in Sparta

Introduction: This is the story behind the movie Troy, about Hector and Andromache. It is the third in a series of three stories (From Thebe to Troy was the first followed by An Invincible Haven) so I strongly suggest you read the first two before reading this one; it will make more sense.

Rating- PG-13. It will stay to that rating, so don't expect anything to up it.

Notes: I'm writing along with a story about Helen and Paris, Gazing in a Mirror, and since the two stories correspond my updates will be slower. Also the fact that I have school now will cut into my writing time.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, except those characters that you don't recognize from the movie.

First Chapter, here you are, enjoy!

Hector stood at the front of the ship, watching the cliffs of Sparta slowly loom into view. With the winds they were having, they'd arrive by sunset.

"A quick journey," Paris said, coming over beside him.

Hector nodded, remembering his wife's words.

_"I've supplicated the gods, and Briseis has vowed to pray every morning you're gone, so your journey should be safe," she said, pulling him into a hug._

"Fear not, I'll return in three months, well and unharmed," Hector said, kissing the top of her head. Astyanax had been wedged between them, and let out a loud protest.

"I expected it to be," Hector answered his brother.

"It was still long, though," Paris mused, just as quickly changing his opinion.

"One month's sailing isn't so bad, once you've become accustomed to it."

"It was a month and ten days."

"Counting them makes it seem longer."

"I'll remember that for the journey home," Paris said, propping himself against a stack of crates.

"Go put on your robes, we'll be arriving soon," Hector said, glancing at his brother. "And make yourself presentable."

Paris grinned and went below deck to put on a stately robe, and quickly glanced in the crude mirror that hung against the rocking wall of the ship. His dark blue robe set off his complexion well. Hector soon joined him and quickly donned a fancy green robe, interwoven with gold. Just as he was finishing the captain called out for all hands to assist with docking.

The two princes quickly returned to the deck and waited for the ship to be safely secured in the harbor. Hector spotted Menelaus dismounting for a horse and turned to Paris.

"Menelaus is the third one to the left, with the gold band. Make sure your greet him as is proper."

Paris made a face. "This isn't my first journey as an ambassador of Troy, Hector."

"But the stakes have never been this high," Hector answered easily, calmly waiting for the planks to be fastened to the side of the ship for dismounting.

"I know what to do," Paris said, peering around him to glance at Menelaus. "By Apollo, he's huge!"

"Paris!" Hector hissed under his breath, a comfortable look still resting on his face as he faced Menelaus. "Hold your tongue."

"No wonder the kings of Greece wish for peace, I doubt he'd even be able to move on the battlefield. His poor wife," Paris chuckled impishly.

"Considering your own skill with a sword, I'd advise you not to speak. And the kings of Greece are quite formidable warriors, if you'd thought to pay attention to your studies."

The plank was finally laid and Hector strode across it easily as Menelaus came over to greet him.

"Prince Hector! We are honored at your arrival," he said, grasping his hand in a firm shake.

"King Menelaus, it is a pleasure to have been granted a safe voyage," Hector replied smoothly. "I'd like to present my brother, Prince Paris, who had graciously agreed to accompany me."

"Prince Paris, a pleasure," Menelaus said, turning to grasp Paris' hand. "Come, you must be tired after your long journey. My wife will have a hearty meal set out for us."

Horses were handed to them and the party set off, slowing ascending the steep cliffs. Paris was bored in an instant; Hector marveled at the natural fortification Sparta possessed. It was completely isolated between the steep inclines, and the only entranceways had been hewn out of the rock, and hence were very easy to defend. Breaching a city like Sparta would not be easy.

_The gods forbid I must ever try,_ Hector thought wryly.

They finally made their way to the palace and their horses were taken by aids.

"The servants will see that your baggage and men are safely disposed," Menelaus said, leading them into the vast expanses of the royal grounds. Paris frowned distastefully, Sparta's grounds weren't nearly as well-kept or styled as Troy's. They made their way into a small, luxuriously furnished room with tapestries hanging from the wall. A fire heated the warm and fur rugs covered the floor, creating one of the few welcoming rooms in the entire Spartan palace. The stone walls constantly kept it in a state of dreariness and cold, so this room was a special treat. Menelaus gestured to a table in the middle of the room and turned to a nearby servant. "Where is the food for our guests?"

"The queen ordered that it be kept warm in the kitchens, it will arrive in a moment," the servant answered.

"Bring some wine for our guests," Menelaus ordered. He joined the princes at the fairly large, square table, sitting opposite Hector. "We'll be dining shortly, my wife-" He frowned, suddenly noticing that the table was set for three. Turning to a nearby handmaiden he narrowed his eyes. "Where is the queen?"

"In her chamber, my king," the young woman answered. "She was tired from the preparations for the meal."

"Bring her to me," Menelaus ordered carelessly. The girl hesitated but then flinched at the look he gave her. She nodded mutely and quietly fled from the room.

"King Menelaus, I would hate to inconvenience your wife," Hector said, trying to ease the situation. Upon hearing Menelaus' orders, Paris had given him a very speaking look.

"It is no inconvenience, I assure you," Menelaus said smoothly, taking a cup of wine from the servant who'd just arrived.

As Menelaus took a deep sip Paris glanced at his brother with his eyebrows raised. _I would never have thought I could pity someone I'd never even met,_ he mouthed. Hector only nodded wearily.

"You did not set a place for yourself," Menelaus said, glancing over at a woman who'd just arrived.

"I am not inclined to dine tonight, the preparations left me weary," a musical voice answered.

Upon hearing her voice Hector stood up quickly from his chair, as etiquette requires. He hadn't seen her come in, so she'd startled him somewhat. He turned to his left, since she was still standing by the door, and was hard pressed to keep himself from gasping when he first beheld her.

Paris was a bit slower to stand, and his back was facing her. But at her words he'd jumped up and spun around, and then frozen in place.

_By all that is holy, it is as though I behold Aphrodite herself, _he thought, amazed. She wore a white, simple dress that glided over her skin. Her hair, golden as the sun, cascaded down her back with small, white flowers entwined in them. There seemed almost to be a heavenly light cast down upon her, as though the gods wished all to know of her uniqueness. Never had there been a creature so perfect, so ethereal, yet so mortal.

"It is my desire that you dine with us tonight," Paris heard Menelaus say.

There was a long pause, but Helen bowed her head and quietly entered the room. She seemed to move with a grace that far surpassed all other women of her class, but it seemed natural at the same time. Her head was bowed, so he could not see her face. She stopped to stand in front of the princes, and Hector and Paris both sunk down low in bows.

"Princes Hector and Paris, I present my wife, Queen Helen," Menelaus said. Only then did she raise her face, as Hector spoke to her.

"Queen Helen, I am honored," he said. She smiled at him, a smile that did not reach her eyes, then turned to Paris.

They locked gazes and Helen no longer wore a smile on her face. Paris heard himself murmur something proper, but he was not paying attention to his words. His eyes never hers but every detail of her face was memorized in that one moment. The slight, upturned nose, the full lips and flushed cheeks, but most of all her eyes. They held his fascination, though not for the color. To be sure, they were the clearest blue he'd ever seen, but it was the depths that enraptured him. They were the shade of the beach at Troy, but with the depth of the Aegean behind them. Emotions as numerous as the stars swam in them and they held years of stories and lessons.

But it would not be proper to stare at another man's wife for too long, so Paris tore his gaze from her and sat back down. Helen sat by her husband's right hand, directly across from Paris. Hector and Menelaus carried most of the conversation, because Helen stared at her plate for the most part and Paris had lost all desire for words. The meal ended quickly with Menelaus saying they must be tired after their journey, so Hector and Paris retired and left Menelaus with his wife.

As the door closed behind them Paris turned to Hector. "Did you see her?!"

"I'd have to be blind not to," Hector retorted good-naturedly. "The rumors do not do her justice."

"She looked immortal."

Hector nodded.

"I've never seen such beauty, and her eyes-" Paris went on.

"Paris, stop. It won't due to have you praising another's man's wife, especially one known for his jealous rages."

Paris obediently was silent, mindful of the servants nearby. But when they were in the sanctuary of their own quarters- two sleeping rooms joined by a shared lounge- he spoke once again on the Queen of Sparta.

"He doesn't deserve her," Paris said decidedly.

Hector sighed. "He doesn't deserve her more than many other men deserve their own wives. She is not the first to be unloved."

Paris was silent, thinking on these words. "I never thought of it before."

"Beauty does not guarantee love, Paris. Nor does wealth. It is the gods' blessing, and they bestow it on whom they will. She is no worse off than thousands of other women, both rich and poor."

"When I finally marry, my wife will not be one of those thousands," he vowed.

Hector smiled. "I know, Paris. You may bed many women, but when you choose that certain one, she'll not be unloved." Hector paused for a beat. "Else I'll not permit you wed her." He smiled at his brother and went into his bedchamber.

Paris sighed restlessly and collapsed on one of the nearby couches. He felt like a glass of wine to help clear his mind, but no servants had been allotted to them. Glancing at Hector's closed door, he debated whether his brother would permit him to go in search of refreshment.

_Probably not,_ he decided, standing up. _But what he doesn't know won't hurt him._ He silently left the quarters, drawing no one's attention.


	2. Ominous Feelings

IMPORTANT NOTE: If you're reading "Gazing in a Mirror" along with this fic, it's recommended that you read the latest chapter for that one before reading this one. So chapter 15 of Mirror, then chapter 2 of Daughter. There's a time jump between them which will make more sense if you read that one first.

Sorry for the long wait, now that school is here I won't be able to update as frequently. This chapter has been long in coming, enjoy!

Hector sighed wearily and rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes. Finally the meetings had ended, they would leave in just two short days. A treaty had been agreed upon, peace at the expense of the Spartan traders being allowed through the Hellespont with minimal cost. He looked down at the empty marketplace and was reminded of something.

"Tecton" he called out to one of the aids lounging nearby. "Make the proper offerings to Poseidon before we sail. We don't need any more widows in Troy."

"Goat or pig?" Tecton asked.

"Which does the Sea God prefer?" Hector replied.

Tecton smiled. "I'll ask the priest and send a servant in the morning." He left to do the prince's bidding and soon Hector bid goodnight to the rest of his aids and went into his own sleeping quarters. As he entered the quarters a vague uneasiness settled over him and he went to knock on Paris's door. Hector spun around as he heard a sudden noise behind him and he watched suspiciously as Paris slipped into the room sneakily, unaware that his brother was watching him.

"Paris!" he called out, causing his brother to jump.

Paris had a guilty look in his eyes but he quickly covered it up, coming over to join his brother.

"You should get to bed," Hector said, searching his brother's face. "Soon you'll not be sleeping on land again for weeks."

"I have no trouble sleeping on the seas," Paris replied smoothly. "The sea nymphs sing

lullabies to me."

"And who sang lullabies to you tonight?" Hector asked shrewdly, noting the late hour.

Hector did not miss the slight pause before Paris answered. "Tonight? Tonight was the fisherman's wife. A lovely creature."

"I hope you didn't let the fisherman catch you," Hector said, holding his brother's gaze without blinking. He knew Paris was lying.

"He's more concerned with the fish," Paris said, trying to shrug the conversation off. He began to head towards his room but Hector grabbed his arm.

"You do understand why we're in Sparta?" Hector said firmly, preventing his brother from leaving.

"For peace," Paris said, extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

"And you understand that Menelaus, _King of Sparta_, is a powerful man? And that his brother, Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, commands all the Greek forces?" Hector's voice was low but the words were very clear.

"What does this have to do with the fisherman's wife?" Paris asked lightly.

Hector grabbed Paris' face between his hands and pulled him close so that Paris was looking directly into his eyes. "Paris," he warned. "You are my brother and I love you. But if you do anything to endanger Troy I'll rip your pretty face from your pretty skull." He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, allowing Paris to feel the seriousness of their business in Sparta, then kissed his brother's forehead. "It's late, go to bed."

Paris left, very uncomfortable, and Hector watched him go.

The feeling of uneasiness had not left him.


	3. A Rose with Thorns

Glad you all liked the last chapter. I can only take credit for part of it, I have the complete Troy script and so I'm going through and picking out most of the scenes. So for the threat you have to thank David Benioff. When the DVD comes out some of these scenes might be in the deleted section, but we'll see. So yah, I can't take all the credit.

School has slowed down, so I think I'll be able to update more. I'm hoping to get out a chapter at least once a week, if not more. Thanks to all of you who have been so patient w/ me, this story is dedicated to you guys!

Hector fastened his cape and gazed into the looking glass, checking his appearance one last time. He heard Paris' footsteps and watched, amused, as his brother barged into his room without even knocking.

"Happy to be of service, Paris," he said mockingly.

"Your cape is crooked," Paris chided, coming over to adjust it. "A fine example of a Trojan prince you make."

"Funny, I could say the same of you," Hector said teasingly, though his eyes were serious as he looked into his brother's.

"Haven't I behaved with the utmost decorum?" Paris said innocently.

"Sometimes I wonder," Hector sighed, leading his brother out into the hall where a servant was waiting to escort them. "Just make sure you continue to act so, we're not out of Sparta yet."

"Princes of Troy," Menelaus began, rising out of his seat. "On our last night together, Queen Helen and I salute you."

Hector smiled and nodded, acknowledging the compliment.

"We've had our conflicts before, it's true. We've fought many battles, Sparta and Troy, and fought well." The warriors at the table let out a hearty cheer in remembrance of their "glory" days. Menelaus waited for the cheering to die down, then continued. "But I've always respected your father. Priam is a good man, and a good king. I respected him as my adversary, I respect him now as my ally."

The entire assembly let out a cheer, the Trojan men included.

"Hector, Paris, young princes, come, stand. Drink with me."

Hector rose out of his chair, simultaneously reaching for his glass and nudging his brother, who he knew wasn't paying attention. Paris never liked speeches. But Paris was just a second late in standing, and no one noticed.

"Let us drink to peace," Menelaus said, raising his glass.

"Peace," Hector agreed. "Between Troy and Sparta."

The treaty was now official, having been taken in front of an assembly before the gods. Everyone drank deeply and Menelaus grinned. "May the gods keep the wolves in the hills and the women in our beds!"

The men drunkenly let out a yell of agreement and Hector glanced at Helen, who did not even listen to her husband's words. _Poor woman, _he thought, studying her. _The gods have not granted you an easy life._

The servants started playing music and Helen stood up, not even attracting the notice of her husband. Hector watched her go, wondering at her sudden exit. His attention was diverted by a group of drunken warriors but as he glanced back he watched Paris slip silently from the room in the same direction that Helen had gone.

_Paris, _he thought, growing angry. Annoyance showed on his face but he quickly masked it, hoping no one had seen. Fortunately, the attention of the men had focused on the entrance of the dancing girls.

Menelaus came over and captured Hector in a bear hug, after which both of them spilled some of their wine on the floor in honor of the gods. Menelaus took hold of Hector's upper arm.

"A strong arm. Thank the gods we've made peace – I've seen too many of my men struck down with this arm."

Hector smiled, "Never again, I hope." _Paris, if you ruin this I swear you'll not live to see another day._

"Only one man works a sword better than you. The son of Peleus the Argonaut," Menelaus continued.

"Achilles," Hector nodded. That named had been whispered in awe, even as far away as Troy.

Menelaus shook his head. "That madman would throw a spear at Zeus himself if the god insulted him." Menelaus gestured over to where a handmaiden, Polydora, stood staring at them openly. "You see that one over there? I picked her just for you, she's a little lioness."

"Thank you," Hector said politely but firmly. "My wife waits for me in Troy."

"My wife waits for me right upstairs," Menelaus said, lowering his voice and grinning. "Wives are for breeding, you understand? For making little princes. Come, enjoy yourself tonight."

Hector smiled and raised his cup. "You make excellent wine in Sparta."

Menelaus laughed drunkenly and raised his cup, then shouted out for a servant to bring him another.

Hector paced the room restlessly as he glanced up at the staircase. Paris' absence would be noticed if he stayed gone any longer. Hector glanced over at Menelaus, who had the handmaiden sitting on his lap. He was openly kissing her, oblivious to the happenings around him. And Hector hoped it would stay that way.

Hector felt himself relaxing as the boat slipped further away from Sparta's shores. The sun was shining but its heat was kept at bay by the cooling breeze that sped them on their way. All the tension of the past week was vanishing as he pictured their destination and his family who awaited him there.

He smiled and turned back to his carving, which was just beginning to take shape as a lion. It was a return gift for his son. For his wife he'd purchased some of the Spartan olive oil that was so highly valued. Supposedly one used it as an ointment for the hair, though he'd never tried it. But undoubtedly she would appreciate it, she was a woman after all.

He saw Paris coming over and smiled at his brother, then turned back to his carving. Paris came up and stood beside him, then spoke.

"A beautiful morning. Poseidon has blessed our voyage."

Hector glanced up at the sky. "Sometimes the gods bless you in the morning and curse you in the afternoon."

He went back to his work and there was a long pause as Paris worked up the nerve to speak.

"Do you love me, brother?"

Hector laughed and raised his eyes to look at the young man who stood before him. Memories associated with that phrase came back all at once, and Hector smiled and shook his head. "The last time you spoke to me like that you were ten years old and you'd just stolen Father's horse. What have you done now?"

To his surprise Paris did not smile at the memory, but only looked more worried. "I must show you something."

Now Hector had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he followed his brother over the ladder and climbed down it. He turned and saw a figure step out of the shadows, cloaked in scarlet. The figure raised the hood off her head and Hector's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the wife of Menelaus. Her eyes were apprehensive as though she were waiting for him to strike her. But he did not even speak to her, instead turning to Paris.

"If you weren't my brother I would kill you where you stand," he said, his voice dangerously low. Paris did not reply as Hector turned around and retraced his steps, but quickly followed him.

Hector stormed passed the captain of the ship. "Turn us around, back to Sparta!" he shouted without breaking his stride. He heard Paris hurrying after him.

"Wait, wait," his brother said helplessly, knowing the captain wouldn't obey a counter-order from him.

"You fool," Hector muttered furiously.

"Listen to me-" Paris began.

Hector spun around and shoved his brother hard. Paris was forced to step back and inwardly quaked at his brother's evident physical strength.

"Do you know what you've done?!" Hector shouted, his fury now unleashed. "Do you know how many years our father's worked for peace?!"

"I love her," Paris protested, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Hector hissed, disgust written all over his face. "You roam from town to town bedding merchants' wives and temple maids and you think you know something about love. What about your father's love?! You spat on him when you brought her on this ship! What about the love for your country? You'd let Troy burn for this woman?!"

Hector turned back out towards the seas and gripped the railing hard. "I won't let you start a war for her."

"May I speak?" Paris said, finally managing to get a word in. Hector nodded tensely and Paris continued. "What you say is true. I've wronged you. I've wronged our father. If you want to bring Helen back to Sparta so be it. But I go with her."

Hector looked at Paris as if he'd lost his mind. "To Sparta? They'll kill you."

"Then I'll die fighting," Paris said, raising his chin.

"Oh and that sounds heroic to you, doesn't it?" Hector said mockingly. "To die fighting. Tell me, little brother, have you ever killed a man?"

Paris lowered his gaze. "No," he answered quietly.

"Ever seen a man die in combat?"

"No," he repeated.

"I've killed men," Hector hissed, anger written clearly on his face. "I've heard them dying and I've watched them dying and there's nothing glorious about it. Nothing poetic. You say you want to die for love, but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!"

"All the same, I go with her," Paris said quietly. "I won't ask you to fight my war."

Hector shook his head. "You already have." There was a tense pause then Hector stormed off. "To Troy!" he ordered, hating his own weakness.

He went to the front of the ship and watched as the boat was brought back to face the endless sea. He heard Paris go back below deck but did not turn around, not wishing to look at the faces of the men. Few could understand the intense desire he had to both beat his brother senseless and shelter him from the cruelty of the world. He longed for his wife by his side, to listen and understand his dilemma. She always did, without fail. _I suppose that's why I love her, _Hector thought ruefully. _Well, Andromache, much as you'll dislike it, I'm bringing you a sister. _

And what a cursed sister it would be.


	4. A Talk Under the Moon

Sorry the wait has been so long, but I just haven't had the time. Enjoy!

**…**

A week passed but still Helen did not appear above deck. And Hector never went to her room. As far as the sailors knew, nothing was wrong, though Hector knew otherwise. The sun was shining and he felt bad for the queen locked in her self-imposed arrest. She had not seen the light of day since they'd left Sparta. But no doubt she was severely questioning her actions.

Hector sighed, thinking of his actions. For the thousandth time he questioned his decision and debated of turning the ship around. It was an endless cycle and he grew frustrated as his thoughts chased themselves in circles. He gave orders for his meals to be delivered to his room and went to spend some time in solidarity.

**…**

Andromache smiled at him, holding out Astyanax for a kiss. He reached for them but she took a step back, always staying out of reach. He frowned and hurried after her always one step behind. They were on top of the walls now, but Andromache wasn't smiling. She was crying as she held their baby over the wall. He yelled for her to stop and tried to reach out but hands grabbed him from behind. He watched as her hands loosened…

Hector sat up, bathed in sweat. He was breathing deeply and his heart was racing. He knew what the dream signified; he'd been in too many battles to not realize the significance of a child being held over the walls. Troy had never been forced to experience such horror and for that he was thankful.

_Troy's time will come,_ a quiet voice in his head warned him. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but still the voice persisted. _You'll not be able to save them._

He stood up determinedly. His mind was made up. _I'm turning this ship around._ He barely paused to throw on a shirt over his nightclothes before hurrying to the deck. The captain slept with the men so it would be difficult to distinguish him in the darkness. A silhouette bathed in white stopped him in his tracks. At the front of the ship leaned Helen, dressed in a simple white nightgown. Her hair was loose and it tumbled down her back, gently blowing in the breeze. Hector's mind flashed back to ten years ago when he'd witnessed his wife in that same placed. _All women are alike,_ he thought with amusement. He stepped quietly over to her and leaned against the rail, leaving plenty of room between them.

Helen started when he spoke. "You should not be up here without an escort," he said, concerned.

She gave him a shaky smile. "To protect my reputation?" she asked mockingly. "I have betrayed my husband. I've no reputation left to protect."

He did not deny it. "I make no promises for the men's decorum if they're to find you here."

"They can do nothing to me that hasn't been done already," she murmured, so softly he could barely hear her. But hear her he did and his heart softened.

"Was your life so terrible?" he asked quietly.

She closed her eyes, tears leaking out of the corners of them. She couldn't speak; she only nodded.

"You'll be safe in Troy," he said, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

"But Troy won't be safe with me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You should do it."

"Do what?"

"Turn the ship around. I often wondered why you didn't."

"My brother would be dead if I had."

"You could've restrained him from following me."

Hector paused, knowing she spoke the truth. "It would've killed him," he finally said.

There was a long pause, then Helen spoke. "Is that the only reason?"

Hector did not answer for a long time and Helen began to wonder if he would. "My wife," he began, but stopped. He took a deep breath before resuming. "She told me about women like you."

"Unfaithful women with no morals and no sense of loyalty?"

"We both know that doesn't describe you," Hector said softly. "And no. She told me of women whose husbands are like yours. Women who are slaves in their own households. I couldn't forgive myself for sending you back to that."

"She described it in such wretched terms?"

Hector nodded affirmatively.

"Had she ever lived it?"

He shook his head. "I promised her I wouldn't."

"But that still does not bind you to me in any way, shape, or form. I am not the one you made a promise to."

"It could have just as easily been her in that predicament," Hector said softly, his eyes holding a faraway look.

Helen was silent then. Hector remained staring out to sea for a time then turned to her. "Let me know when you're finished here and I'll escort you back below."

A light smile flitted across Helen's face. "I am ready now."

They walked in silence back to the room she shared with Paris and he left her at the door with a few parting words. "The sea looks equally brilliant in the daytime, Helen. You should experience it."

She inclined her head and silently entered her room, careful not to wake Paris. Hector closed his eyes and saw his wife smiling at him, holding out their baby.

_Forgive me, Andromache,_ he thought, shaking his head. _I couldn't do it._

But he knew she'd never condemn him for it. She of all people would understand.

It was the rest of Troy he'd have to deal with.


	5. Arrival at Troy

Hector sent notification for a chariot to be waiting for them at the gate. They went by horseback—Helen clinging tightly to Paris looking very nervous on the calm animal—and soon arrived at the gate. Paris and Helen quickly dismounted and took possession of the chariot waiting for them and the gates were opened.

The noise was deafening. Hector was reminded of the time he'd escorted his own bride through the city and smiled at the memory. He waved at groups of people, noting many of the hostile stares directed at the woman next to his brother. _And so it begins, _he thought.

They soon arrived at the citadel and dismounted, quickly crossing the courtyard and climbing the steps where Priam waited for them. Hector could see Andromache waiting inside, a smile lighting up her face.

"Father," he said, coming to a halt before the aged king.

"Hector," Priam said, embracing him fondly.

Hector stood aside and let Paris through.

"Paris," Priam said tenderly, taking him and kissing both his cheeks.

"Father." Paris stepped back and gave Helen room to approach. She did—though hesitantly. "Father this is Helen."

Priam's face showed slight suspicion. "Helen of Sparta?"

Helen looked down, very uncomfortable. "Helen of Troy," Paris said firmly.

Priam hesitated for just a moment then tenderly embraced her. "I've heard rumors of your beauty," he said, kissing one cheek. "And for once, the gossips were right." He kissed her other cheek and smiled down at her. "Welcome." She smiled back at his kind words and gracefully accepted the hand he stretched out to her.

Hector left the party and hurried over to his wife. She smiled and kissed him then allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. He held her there for a moment, the two of them lost in their own world, then she pulled away. "Look," she said, taking Astyanax into her arms.

"He's grown," Hector exclaimed wonderingly as she handed Astyanax to him. Andromache nodded.

"He is strong." Andromache looked into his eyes. "Who is the woman?"

"Helen of Sparta," Hector said, his voice low. Andromache's eyebrows rose. He shook his head. "We'll talk later." A shout distracted him and he glanced over at Briseis greeting his brother. "I must greet Briseis."

He hurried over to where she was chatting with Paris and smiled at her. "Briseis," he greeted lovingly, kissing her. "A servant of Apollo now," he said admiringly.

"The young men of Troy were devastated when they heard Briseis had chosen the virgin robes," Priam said, coming over. Briseis blushed but couldn't help smiling. "Hector, I wish to speak with you."

Hector nodded and excused himself, following his father to a private conference room. There was an uncomfortable silence as they walked the length, but finally Priam spoke.

"It's the will of the gods. Everything is in their hands. But I'm surprised you let him bring

her."

"If I'd let him fight Menelaus for her, you'd be burning a son's body instead of welcoming a daughter," Hector said helplessly.

"We could send peace envoys to Menelaus," Priam suggested.

Hector shook his head. "You know Menelaus. He'd spear your envoys' heads to his gate."

"What would you have me do?"

"Put her on a ship and send her home," Hector's plea was desperate. _Do what I could not._

"Women have always loved Paris and he's loved them back. But this is different. Something has changed in him. If we send her back to Menelaus, he'll follow." Another excuse.

"This is my country. These are my countrymen. I don't want to see them suffer so my brother can have his prize," Hector replied, frustrated. "It's not just the Spartans coming

after her. By now Menelaus has gone to Agamemnon, and Agamemnon's wanted to destroy us for years."

Priam raised his chin proudly. "Enemies have been attacking us for centuries. Our walls still stand."

Hector looked at him, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Father. We can't win this war."

Priam disregarded his son's words. "Apollo watches over us. Even Agamemnon is no match for the gods."

"And how many battalions does the Sun God command? Hector snapped, annoyed.

"Do not mock the gods," Priam chastised sharply. Hector averted his gaze in submission, annoyance still written on his face. Priam gazed at his son, then his eyes softened. "When you were very young you came down with scarlet fever."

Hector nodded impatiently. This story was familiar to him.

Priam continued, regardless. "Your little hands were so hot. The healer said you wouldn't last the night. I went down to Apollo's temple and I prayed until the sun came up." He paused and made sure Hector was listening. "That walk back to the palace was the longest of my life. But I went into your mother's room and you were sleeping in her arms. The fever had broken. I promised that day to dedicate my life to the gods. I will not break

my promise."

Hector closed his eyes in resignation. Priam's mind was made up. But Priam wasn't done.

"For thirty years I've worked for peace. Thirty years. Paris is a fool sometimes. I know that. But I'll fight a thousand wars before letting him die," he said with finality. There would be no argument allowed.

Hector gazed past his father, out to the sea. It was empty now, vast and beautiful. But he knew it would not remain so for long. "Forgive me, father. But you won't be the one fighting." He bowed and left, knowing there was nothing more to be said.

Hector walked quickly through the halls towards his chambers, running his hands through his hair with frustration. He needed his wife.

And he found her, waiting for him in their quarters, watching Astyanax roll around on the bed. He stopped at the entrance, allowing his eyes to gaze at her lovingly. She wore her crown as she always did now that they had a child, and her light summer gown skimmed across her slim figure. She looked up then, as if sensing his presence. She smiled happily at him, delighted to see him in such a short time. Usually his meetings were longer.

"You ran off quickly," she chided, arching an eyebrow. He grinned and played along.

"But I returned just as quickly," he pointed out, walking towards her purposefully.

He took her hands and gently pulled her from her couch and kissed her hard, letting his hands slide down her back.

"Hector," she protested, grinning and pulling away. "I believe we're not alone."

"He won't mind," Hector said confidently.

"But I do," she said haughtily. Hector sighed.

"So be it." He took Astyanax in his arms and smiled as the baby drooled up at him. "My apologies, little one, but you are occupying our space. And if I'm not mistaken, it's time for your nap." He summoned Niobe and handed him to her with instructions to find his nurse and make sure they weren't disturbed. He then returned to their chamber.

"Where were we?" he asked, pulling his wife close. He kissed her and she responded enthusiastically, finally pulling away to pause for breath.

"I thought there were matters for us to discuss," she gasped.

"Later," he said, firmly propelling them towards the bed.

Andromache raised no objection.

**…**

"Do you forgive me," he asked, toying with her hair as she leaned against his chest. His other hand rested comfortably on her stomach, gently tracing her naval with his finger.

"For what?" she murmured, enjoying the moment.

"Bringing her." They both knew of whom they spoke.

"I assume you had a good reason," she said.

He sighed. "I don't know."

"Why did you?"

He paused for a long time, finding the right words to say. "Because I saw you in her."

She grinned up at him. "I'm flattered, but you must've been blind when gazing at me."

He flicked her head. "Minx." But then he turned serious again. "You could've just as easily been in her predicament."

She nodded. "And that's why you brought her?"

"I kept hearing you in my head."

"I'm delighted to know I have such a strong influence over you," she said, teasing him. But then she too turned serious. "I've nothing to forgive, Hector. Had you returned her then I could see the need for an apology. Not for this."

"She could bring devastation upon this city. Everything you've ever feared."

Andromache closed her eyes tightly, trying to blot out the images. Then she opened them again and shook her head firmly. "That may be. But the crime would have been returning her, no matter whether she brings blessings or curses."

He smiled tenderly at her. "I love you."

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. "I've missed you."

"The feeling was mutual, I assure you," Hector said dryly.

"What, no women of Sparta to keep you company?" she said mockingly. She frowned. "At least you are permitted to keep company. I must sit alone and wait for you to return."

"I should beat you," Hector said lightly.

"You should," she agreed. Then she began to pull away. "I should see to Helen, though. She'll need someone to show her the palace and introduce her to the others."

His arms remained unmoving.

"Hector," she said, trying to wriggle away from him.

"You're not leaving," he said leisurely, leaning his head back, happily knowing she couldn't go anywhere. "Helen can wait."

Andromache relaxed her body but slowly reached her arms around her own body to rest on his sides. Hector jumped at the sudden cold hands that forcefully poked his sides. "Andromache!" he shouted as she jabbed harder into his sides. He very quickly rolled her over, clasping her hands and pinning them above her head, using his body to anchor her down. He grinned down at her. "I win."

"Not fair," she protested.

"Life is rarely fair," he explained as though to a child. He kissed her. "But it all adds up in the end."

She grinned at him. "I doubt it."

He arched an eyebrow. "Do you?" His lips found hers and his hands came down to cup her head. She pulled him closer and the two of them were soon lost in a flood of passion.

Helen would wait.


	6. A Woman's Compassion

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCMENT: **There is a contest going on, The Tragic Bliss Awards, for H/A fics. If you'd like to submit your own or nominate another, feel free to do so. Go to Lady Arwen's profile and there will be a link taking you to the site for more information. Pick a category if you're inspired, write a fic, and then submit it. There are too few H/A fics. March 31st is the deadline, so get moving! J

Glad you all liked the last chapters, I actually had #4 written for awhile, but FF wouldn't let me on so I finished #5 in the process as well as the two for Mirror. Thank you ALL for your reviews and remember, let me know what you want to see. This is my last fic in the H/A trilogy so this is your last chance to get things in there. I'll probably turn to one-shots afterwards unless anything else strikes my fancy, so speak up while you can. Anyways, here's the next one. It took me awhile to get through; it was hard. Enjoy!

**…**

Though night had fallen, Andromache still had to weave her way through the busy halls towards Paris' quarters. A servant brought her to the entertaining room and she waited while someone went to fetch Helen. The woman soon appeared, nervously following the chambermaid.

Andromache was stunned when she saw her. Helen was, without a doubt, the daughter of Zeus. Andromache had never seen someone who managed to look so delicately human yet breathtakingly divine all at once. "Queen Helen," she said, smiling warmly. "I am Princess Andromache, Hector's wife."

Helen smiled, though her eyes were tired. "I've heard much about you," she said, her voice sounding like the sweetest bells Andromache had ever heard. "And please, call me Helen."

Andromache smiled and nodded. "I wanted to introduce myself earlier but duties wouldn't permit it. I thought that if you're not busy I could show you around the palace, unless Paris has already done so."

"Paris received a summons from the king," Helen informed her. "So I'd be delighted to have you show me around."

As Andromache guided Helen around the palace complex the two women chatted nonstop. "And these are our quarters," Andromache said, passing the area of the palace dedicated to the crowned couple. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call on us. Paris can be quite negligent sometimes," she said, grinning.

Helen smiled and nodded. "But his heart is good." Andromache did not dispute that. She finally led Helen up to the highest point of the palace, a small room hidden away with a balcony that encircled the tower to allow for a view of the entire surrounding area.

"Helen, welcome to Troy," she said simply as she lifted the simple curtain and led her outside.

Helen sucked in her breath, her eyes staring in amazement. "I've never seen anything so beautiful," she whispered.

Andromache found herself amazed that this divine beauty could take pleasures in the simple joys of life when all she had to do was look in the mirror. "I'm glad you like it."

"Sparta never looked this peaceful," she went on, though hesitantly. She glanced at Andromache.

Andromache shook her head. "They're not going to send you back."

"Do you resent me for it?"

"It is the gods' will," Andromache shrugged. "You are just a pawn."

"Many would argue I am the player."

"I wouldn't."

"How is you don't hate me?" Helen asked, genuine curiosity on her face.

"I've no right to hate you."

"And why don't you?"

"Because I have not been through what you have. Unless I have suffered everything you have I could not pass judgment. It would not be right."

"Hector told you, then?"

"Told me what?"

"Of my life in Sparta."

Andromache shook her head. "Your eyes do the speaking, Helen. I do not need to ask my husband of what he witnessed."

Helen nodded, looking back out at Troy. Without turning her head she spoke. "I am cursed."

"Cursed or not, you still don't deserve to be treated like that."

Helen smiled and shook her head. "I've never known someone to be so forgiving before."

"There's nothing to forgive. You have not wronged me."

Helen sighed and smiled, not understanding Andromache but realizing she didn't want to. They remained in silence for a long time, each reflecting on the other's words.

"I must return to my husband," Andromache finally said, loathe to break the silence. "Do you remember the way back or shall I show you."

"I remember," Helen said. "I desire to remain here a little longer."

Andromache nodded. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like." She left quietly and only then did Helen realize her words held more than one meaning.

Andromache returned to her own quarters and entered her chamber. Hector was there, tossing Astyanax gently into the air and catching him easily. The baby grinned and drooled down onto his father. Andromache stopped and smiled, watching the scene unnoticed.

"You'd never make a good spy, love," Hector said without even glancing at her. Andromache laughed and came over.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You are too loud." He smiled then added as an afterthought, "And too predictable."

Andromache arched an eyebrow and pulled away from him. "Are you sure?" she asked challengingly.

He grinned but rose to the occasion. "I can predict exactly what will happen within the next hour."

"Try, my dear, but I warn you, I'm not quite so naïve as you think."

"I shall put Astyanax to bed while you wait out on the balcony. Then I'll join you, bringing two glasses of wine-" Hector paused and gave her a coy look. "I'll comment how lovely you look in the moonlight and how enticing your lips are looking."

Andromache cocked her head, acting innocent. "And then?"

Astyanax gave a squall of protest at being ignored and Hector laughed. "I'll finish later," he promised his wife. She laughed softly and went out on the balcony, looking out at the vast expanse of the sea. True to his word, Hector joined her a little while later.

She smiled and took the glass of wine from him. "I went to visit Helen today."

"And?" Hector asked, waiting for her to go on.

"Oh, Hector," she sighed, turning to face him. "I've never seen such haunting eyes."

Hector nodded. "I was struck by them the first time I laid eyes on her."

"She expects hatred."

"She's learned that."

"She'd barely speak to me at first, as though she feared I'd lash out at her for what she did."

"Many others will. She'll be hated."

"How could she have acted differently? You saw what he did to her."

Hector nodded slowly. "I did."

"Do you blame her?"

There was a long pause, then Hector sighed. "No, I do not. It was for that reason that I could not return her to her husband."

"You tried to make Priam, though."

"I failed to protect Troy; I hoped he would be able to."

"You protected a mistreated and abused woman, Hector."

"And in doing so I bring a war to Troy."

"I told you before, returning her would have been wrong."

"Bringing calamity to my city is a wrong as well."

"You do not bring it. Results of actions are not your concern. War will come, but you do not command the fleet that sails here. You do not fire the arrows that will fall upon our men. You _do_, however, offer sanctuary to a woman who has nowhere else to go."

"But _Troy_, Andromache, _Troy_."

"Troy is made up of individuals, is it not?"

"Yes," Hector said impatiently.

"Troy exists as a place where human beings can live in peace and just rule. The people are not subject to tyranny and hatred. Troy is not a place, Hector, is it made up of people. There is no difference between Helen and myself. We both have the right to happiness. Menelaus swore before the gods to treat her as his wife. If he'd kept those vows we'd not be in this situation. Hector, the day you stop considering the individual rights of people and start looking upon them as a whole is the day you lose everything I love in you. You've no right to deny Helen her pleasure, just as I've no right to judge her for being an unfaithful wife. No one here has that right. Yes, she'll be hated and despised, and Troy will resent her, but I swear to the gods this family will welcome her with open arms. We're not so haughty as to deny her the very love every human being craves," Andromache finished hotly, a determined look on her face.

Hector stared at her for a moment, a slight look of shock on his face, and then his face softened. He pulled her into his arms and held her, running his fingers through her hair. "I love you," he said simply. "I don't think any other man has been so blessed as I have."

"Promise me you won't resent her," Andromache said firmly, her voice muffled into his shoulder.

"I'll do my very best," Hector swore.

Andromache smiled up at him. "That's all I ask." She buried her face back into his shoulder. "And you were wrong."

"About what?"

"Your prediction," she said, barely audible.

Hector laughed and pulled her head back so he could look at her. "Have I mentioned how lovely you look in the moonlight?"

"Are you implying I look horrible by daylight?" Andromache asked saucily.

"And how enticing your lips are?" Hector ignored her.

"I remember a vague mention of some such thing," Andromache said, frowning as though deep in thought.

"And how smooth your skin is?" Hector said, slipping his hands under the smooth fabric of her dress to gently run his hands over the dips in her shoulders he knew so well.

She shivered. "And how cold your fingers are?"

"And how I'm sure you don't mind?" he said, his lips finding hers. His hands gently eased the fabric further along her shoulders until it remained by only the smallest bit. "And how vulnerable you are at this moment?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "You're incurable, Hector." But as she stared up at him, her eyes softened. His eyes held such depth and she smiled softly. "So many memories."

He cupped her head and ran his thumbs across her face. "Good ones?"

"Don't ever doubt it." She leaned up and pulled his face down to meet her lips. In a moment, her dress had lost its precarious hold on her shoulders and plunged to the floor. His hands traced her skin, finding its dips and curves with the familiarity brought on by years together.

"I win," he whispered, kissing her passionately.

She kissed him back, reveling in his familiar smell and touch. "I'm not complaining."

**…**

**DON'T FORGET THE TRAGIC BLISS AWARDS! See the top of this chapter for info. **


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